Burned
by Keiith
Summary: Jaime/Jorah. Jorah gets burned, but somehow it's Jaime who needs to be comforted the most. Hurt/Comfort, Pre-slash, slash, romance, fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Pairing:** Jaime Lannister / Jorah Mormont

 **Rating:** T

 **Tags:** Mormonnister, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Romance, Pre-Slash, Slash, Angst, Kisses.

 **AU:** Jaime left the Kingsguard after the Rebellion to live on Bear Island.

 **Summary:** Jorah gets hurt, but somehow it's Jaime who needs to be comforted the most.

This fic is a gift to ProfDrLachfinger! 3 It has four chapters, I will post one chapter a week ;)

* * *

 **BURNED**

 **Chapter I**

\- "To your left!"

Jorah turned on his heels, bringing his sword up to protect his face and torso, just in time to stop an small axe made of rusted steel. The two weapons clanged against one another, but the young Mormont barely noticed the sound. The fighting was going on all around them, the armored men and women of Bear Island against the ragged but well-armed wildlings who had invaded their lands and raided their farms. There were shoutings and the sounds of metal against metal, and the wailings of wounded people too. It was surprising how Jorah was able to ignore all those sounds when he was fighting, and still never missed that one familiar voice when it was calling him. A voice that had saved him many times.

The wildling who had almost cut his head into two with his axe had an angry and desperate look on his face, as if he held Jorah responsible for all his miseries. He would have had compassion for him, but the man and his companions had attacked innocent farmers, butchering them to steal their food. So he pushed back with his sword, using the sheer power of his hard trained muscles, until his assaillant took one step back and lost his balance, then he slashed across his belly, and brought his sword up and through his opponent's throat. The man was dead before he even fell on the ground.

Jorah caught his breath for a second, his eyes searching instinctively for a familiar mane of blond hair among the men who were fighting. He saw that the fighting was almost done. The wildlings had never stood a chance against them anyway: his men had armors and were well-trained in combat, and they were used to fight the occasional raiders from Beyond-The-Wall.

\- "Jorah! Behind you!"

This time, the warning came too late. By the time he turned to look behind him, two wildlings were already upon him. He saw the blades coming right towards his face. But then someone stepped between him and the two men, and Jorah only had the time to recognize the red cape and the golden hair before suddenly the two assaillants were dead on his savior's feet, staining his shoes with their dark red blood. Even now, Jorah couldn't help but marvel at Jaime Lannister's skills and swiftness in combat. It was like nothing could ever harm the man as long as he had a sword in his hands.  
And honestly, he wished nothing would ever harm the young man, ever.

\- "Looks like I owe you one, Jaime."

\- "One? More like ten, old man!", replied Jaime with a laugh. "What would you do without me watching your back constantly?"

\- "Oh so you're keeping count, then?"

\- "I sure am. I'll make sure I find some way for you to repay me back one way or the other."

Jaime winked at that, which made Jorah blush. He quickly diverted his eyes and turned back to the fighting at hand. He had fantasies about the golden-haired young man, fantasies he tried to hide, but sometimes it looked like Jaime was flirting with him, and he didn't know how to react.

It wasn't the time and place to think about that, though. A gigantic man was approaching them, armed of a long sword and a lit torch. He was seven feet tall and all muscles, with a bright red beard and a broken nose. His blade was dripping blood, making Jorah's heart clench. He couldn't help but wonder if some of his men were dead, and who. Most of the time they defeated the wildlings who came raiding their lands with relative ease, but sometimes his men left the battleground badly wounded, or worse. And this gigantic wildling looked like very bad news.

\- "Together?", he asked Jaime, already approaching the man on his right.

But he didn't hear any answer.

\- "Jaime?", he asked again, surprised.

He glanced quickly towards the Lannister. Jaime had not moved, and his face looked strangely blank, which made Jorah worry immediately. He felt the urge to take the younger man in his arms and ask him what was wrong. But then the wildling came at him, swinging his red sword, and he only had the time to dodge. He held up his sword quickly to stop the next blow, but the other's strength was so great that the blow made him lose his balance and fall on his ass.  
Then everything happened very quickly.  
He saw the giant man advancing towards Jaime, who for some reason was still unmoving, just staring at the other man with empty eyes. Jorah must have somehow gotten back on his feet, because the next thing he knew he was placing himself between the two men and pushing Jaime to protect him from a mortal blow… and then suddenly he felt pain, a wild and burning pain, and his sword fell from his hand… someone was screaming, he was screaming, and there were bright flames in front of him, but he could hardly see through his watery eyes.

 _My arm is on fire_ , he realized, as he was kneeling on the ground and trying to extinguish the fire with his other hand. He felt like he was falling and falling, and he was so in pain that he couldn't stop, and he wondered if he was going to hit his head on the ground and just _die_... but then there were arms around him, holding him steady and safe. He heard someone call his name and he wanted to reply, but there was so much pain... instead he just closed his eyes and passed out.

When he woke up, Jorah felt like hours had passed by, but it had only been a few minutes. He was still in the forest where the fighting had taken place. Everything was very quiet now that the fighting was over. He could hear someone whining quietly though, but then he realized it was him and he stopped. He was the Lord of Bear Island, he couldn't let his men see him whine. One of his arms was hurting, a lot, though which one he wasn't sure. And he could feel that one of his hands was wounded too. He didn't want to look at his injured limbs quite yet though.

\- "Jorah. Jorah can you hear me?", he heard a voice calling him. A familiar, well-loved voice, but with a hoarse and desperate tone he had never heard before.  
His mouth was a bit numb, but he managed to let out a "I'm fine". It wasn't true, though. He was in agony. But no one needed to know that. He rested his head against the warm, welcoming chest behind him. It was comfortable, and it smelled nice…

\- "Jaime?", he asked, realizing who was holding him. He tried to turn his head around but strong arms kept him in place, forbidding him to move.

\- "Don't move. You're hurt."

\- "But…"

\- "And shut up. The healer is coming."

Jorah wanted to say that he felt just fine, even though the pain in his arm was terrible, but he sensed that Jaime was tensed, almost shaking, and decided to stay silent. They were both sitting on the ground, and Jaime's arms were around him, holding him tight. He'd had so many dreams about Jaime holding him like that… of course, none of them included him being half-burned on a battlefield, but whatever. He would enjoy this as long as he could.

He moved his head just a bit to rest more fully against Jaime's chest, and he felt the man's breath against his hair. It was nice. Jaime had apparently removed his chestplate, because there was only a thin tunique between Jorah's face and the man's bare skin. He could hear Jaime's heartbeat. It was beating a bit too fast, and Jorah wondered if that was because of the thrill of the fight, or because Jaime was worried about him.

He couldn't help but hope.

The beautiful blond man had haunted his dreams since he first saw him in King's Landing, dressed all in white and seated on the Iron Throne. he could remember the scene perfectly. There had been splatters of blood staining his white armor. Jaime had just killed the King he had swore to protect then, but his face showed neither regret nor malice. Jorah remembered when he had entered the Throne room, following Lord Eddard Stark and other Northmen after they had taken the city. Jaime was waiting for them on the Throne, King Aerys' bloody corpse laying on the floor. He was so young, just 16 years old, and he had tried to look defiant and sure of himself in front of Ned Stark. But Jorah had noticed his eyes immediately. They were not the eyes of a traitorous, arrogant man, no… They were the eyes of a lost, disillusioned young man who desperately needed help.  
Of course, Jaime Lannister had never admitted to being in need of any kind of help, not in the two years he had spent on Bear Island. But from the moment their eyes had met in the Throne room, Jorah had sworn to himself that he would do everything in his power to make the young man happy and to keep him safe.

\- "Jorah? You need to drink this. It's milk of the poppy, to dull your pain."

The young Lord Mormont couldn't help but smile, realizing that ever since Jaime had come to live on Bear Island two years prior, he's been the one to take care of Jorah and not the other way around. Jaime was always saving his ass in combat, always worrying when he was sick, always there when he didn't want to be alone.

He opened his lips to drink the beverage Jaime was giving him. A drop fell on his chin. He wanted to clean it away but Jaime was faster and caught it with two fingers. The touch felt like a caress, soft and warm… _almost loving?_ , wondered a voice in his mind.

He couldn't help but hope.

For from the moment their eyes had met in the Throne room, Jorah had been desperately in love with the other man.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi guys! Here is the second chapter, enjoy :)

The third chapter will be posted next week!

* * *

 **BURNED**

 **Chapter II**

Jaime kept a firm hold on Jorah, who was now half-asleep because of the milk of the poppy, while the healer cleaned the wounds with fresh water, then applied some kind of ointment on them. Even though Jorah should have been the one in needs of comforting, keeping Jorah in his arms was helping him be calm again. Jaime had found himself close to a panic attack when flames had erupted from Jorah's right arm, hurting him, burning him… and only holding Jorah against him and making sure his wounds weren't too severe had allowed him to calm down, even just a little.

Jaime hated himself. He had thought he had overcome his fear of fire with time… but when the wildling had walked towards him with his lit torch, his mind had suddenly brought him back two years earlier, during the Nightmare, as he had come to call it. With just the sight of this torch, he had forgotten the forest, the fight - even Jorah! He had been stuck into his old Nightmare, hearing the horrible screams again and again, calling for help, crying for mercy, while flames devoured a man's body…  
Only when Jorah had jumped on him to protect him from the wildling, had Jaime come back to his senses. And it was only to see a new nightmarish vision, somehow even worse, as Jorah's arm had been lit on fire… It was his fault. It wouldn't have happened if he had helped Jorah fighting the man, instead of being stuck in his old stupid memory!

He had defeated the guy in just a few seconds after that, his body fueled by Jorah's screams as the fire was eating his clothes and then his flesh… But those few seconds had been way too long for Jaime's taste. Jorah had started to also burn his left hand, trying in vain to extinguish the flames by patting at his arm. He was losing consciousness when Jaime finally came back to his side. He caught the older man before he fell, and quickly put his cape on the flames to extinguish them. Thankfully, it had worked.

The healer had come not too long after that. Jaime had been too afraid to move Jorah with his injuries, so he had just sit on the floor, with the young Mormont safely resting against his chest. When he had seen the state of Jorah's arm, his flesh red and raw, he had almost lost it again. But he knew Jorah needed him, so he had struggled to keep the old, nightmarish memories at bay, and he had focused on taking care of the young Lord instead.

It turned out that the wounds were not so serious, according to the healer, even though they looked terrible to Jaime.

\- "His clothes protected him from most of the fire", had explained the old man after examining Jorah's right arm. "If it had lasted longer, it would have been much much worse. But mylord was lucky, and the wound isn't so bad. The burn on the hand is even less serious, just a superficial burn, it will be gone completely in a few days. For mylord's right arm it will take more time, obviously. It will hurt a lot - a burn always does, but it should heal nicely, as long as he takes proper care of it. Which means, cleaning the wound at least twice a day, applying some ointments I'll give you if it hurts too much, and making sure the bandages are always dry and clean. We'll have to make sure the wound doesn't get infected. And mylord will have to rest. No more wandering about, no more fighting and the like until he is better. Which will likely take a while. It's better if there is always someone with him. Mylord Mormont has always been reckless, so I'm counting on you to keep him in check, young man. Else he'll pretend that everything is fine and will try to ignore he's hurt, and the next thing he'll know, he'll collapse on the floor. I know, because it's happened before. But Lord Jorah never listens. He's as thick as his father and as stubborn as his aunt. When he was younger…"

The healer kept talking for a while, not caring that he was doing the conversation alone. Jaime didn't mind. His voice was somehow comforting. It was better than remembering Jorah's screams anyway - even though he couldn't quite forget them either. They were echoing in his mind, crushing him with guilt as it was his fault Jorah had been hurt. After everything the older man had done for him, all he was capable of was to freeze in the middle of a fight, and force Jorah to get hurt to protect him. Jaime bit his lip, hard. He was still as helpless as he had been when he was a Kingsguard and had let people get burned to a crisp in front of him. He was still desperately incapable of protecting those he cared for.  
He felt like he wasn't worthy of even holding Jorah in his arms like this. As if he of all people could give the man any comfort! …But then Jorah moved his head a bit, letting it rest just above Jaime's heart, and let out a sight of contentment. And Jaime found he just couldn't let the man go. He would hold the young Mormont like this forever if he could, guilt be damned.

Once the healer had finished treating and bandaging the wound, they had removed most of Jorah's armor, and Jaime had carried him to a carriage that Jorah's men had borrowed to villagers living not far away. The villagers had been more than happy to lend the transport for their Lord. Several of their farms had been raided and burnt by the intruders during the past days, and they'd been relieved and grateful to learn that the wildlings had finally been taken care of.

Jorah wasn't completely unconscious during the ride home. Every minute or so he would move in Jaime' arms, as if trying to find a position that would help with the pain - except there was none.

\- "Does it hurt a lot?", asked Jaime. He couldn't hide the guilt in his voice.

\- "I'm fine", replied Jorah, which was an obvious lie. His difficult, hoarse breath and the way his muscles would tense every now and then were clue enough that Jorah was in pain. Jaime didn't push it though. It was hard enough to know Jorah was hurting; he didn't know what he would do if Jorah actually admitted to the terrible pain, and accused Jaime of being responsible for it. So he decided to talk of other things instead, hoping it would distract Jorah from his burns.

\- "Do you remember the Tourney at Lannisport… about ten years ago? It was in 271, I think. I was just a boy. Five years old."

\- "I remember. We don't often have tourneys here in the north, but that year I've been traveling south with my aunt Maege. We came to Lannisport for the tourney. And was old enough to participate."

\- "You joined the melee. I remember. I saw you."

\- "Really? I… I can't remember seeing you there…"

Jorah sounded guilty, as if he should have remembered Jaime, which made the blond man smile.

\- "You wouldn't remember. I was only five, just a little boy among many, and not much to look at really…"

\- "Ah, don't lie to me, I don't believe that. I'm sure you've always been gorgeous, even when you were just a brat."

 _"Gorgeous"? Does he think I'm gorgeous?_

\- "Uh… well… anyway, I remember seeing you. You were one of the youngest fighters in the melee, but taller than half of them. You were clad in green and black, the colors of your House."

\- "Oh, please tell me you didn't watch me fight?!"

Jaime laughed.

\- "I did. And I remember it, too."

\- "Damn. My reputation is over. This was the most ridiculous, pathetic fight ever."

\- "It wasn't though! You were great!"

It was Jorah's turn to laugh this time, but the movement pained him and he had to take a few long, harsh breaths before speaking again.

\- "I basically knocked myself out with my own weapon. How do you call that « great »?"

\- "Well… the fight got a bit messy in the end, and you did stumble and hurt your head against your own sword. But that was after you defeated many men, several of which were experienced fighters and twice your weight. I was impressed."

\- "Impressed? Really? You must mean you were impressed by my clumsiness…"

\- "No, I mean it! I was just five, and about everyone was taller and stronger than me. Seeing you defeat men much older and stronger than you left a strong impression in me, you know."

\- "Really?"

Jorah turned his head a bit at that, and stared right into Jaime's eyes. The Lannister felt his face turn pink. He had just been doing small talk, but now Jorah was looking at him very seriously, as if trying to read his thoughts. Jaime realized that what he was saying was maybe a bit too personal and intimate. He started fumbling through his words.

\- "Well, I mean, you and many others. Uh. All those knights and strong fighters at the Tourney, they're the ones who inspired me to get stronger and to become a knight…"

\- "Oh, ok. So I was just one among many others?"

Jaime could swear Jorah was teasing him now.

\- "Yeah. Of course. That's what I meant."

Jaime was as red as his cape, now, and he knew that fact didn't escape Jorah's notice. The young Mormont raised a questioning eyebrow.

\- "Ok, if you insist, I remembered YOU more than anyone else. There. You happy?"

Jorah grinned so widely at him that Jaime's heart missed a few beats.

\- "Very happy. Was it because I was the most handsome fighter in the melee?"

\- "You… you weren't the worse. But I mostly remember you because you were cute."

\- "Cute?"

\- "Yeah. You know, when you knocked yourself with your own sword? That was adorable. And unforgettable", explained Jaime with a wicked smile. "I told my sister all about it, over and over again."

\- "I hate you."

\- "I know."

They hadn't talked much more after that. Jorah eventually fell asleep, and Jaime had been content just holding him during the whole trip.  
When he looked at Jorah's face resting on his chest, just above his heart, and as he felt the other man's body heat keeping him warm, he couldn't help but be almost - almost! - happy. It was an horrible thing to even think though. Of course he wasn't happy Jorah had been hurt! Yes, having the older man in his arms was like a dream… but not in those conditions. He couldn't allow himself to enjoy it even as Jorah was suffering, it just wasn't right. It was selfish.

 _So why was his heart beating a thousands beats a minute?_


	3. Chapter 3

Hi guys! Sorry for the slight delay, here is chapter 3! :)

Also, ProfDrLachfinger made a GORGEOUS illustration for the first chapter of the fic! I put the link in my profile, go check it out! :)

* * *

 **BURNED**

 **Chapter III**

Jorah woke up feeling like someone had lacerated his arm open with a knife. He grunted from the pain. He tried to move his arm, but that only sent a sharp bolt of pain through his body. He was hurting everywhere and sweating and breathing with difficulty.  
He felt someone washing the sweat from his brow with a fresh, damp piece of cloth. He struggled a moment to open his eyelids, but when he finally managed to identify his surroundings, he recognized his room, with the familiar light stone walls covered in tapestries and the grey ceiling with a crack in the vague shape of a heart tree. Jaime was sitting close to his bed, a wet cloth in his hand and a worried look on his face.

\- "Hey there."

\- "You shouldn't talk. That will only tire you. You should rest, sleep if you can."

\- "I've slept enough already", replied Jorah, though he did feel exhausted.

\- "You're obviously in pain. Maybe you should take more milk of the poppy."

\- "Hmpf…"

Jorah casted a look at his own body. He was laying in his bed under a dark green blanket, both his arms resting on his chest on top of the blanket. His right arm was covered in bandages, as well as his left hand. He made a attempt to move his fingers, but grimaced at the pain. He must have been burnt pretty bad. He reported his attention to the man next to him, and noticed that Jaime's hands were shaking slightly as he was pouring some beverage into a bowl.

\- "Jaime? Are you all right?"

The blond man let out a surprised breath.

\- "You're asking me? I'm fine. You're the one lying in a bed and hurting."

\- "Why are you shaking?"

Jaime's face crumbled and Jorah almost regretted asking, but he really wanted to know what was up with the young Lannister.

\- "I'm… I'm sorry", finally admitted Jaime, looking away. "You were hurt because of me."

\- "Don't be. Wasn't your fault."

\- "It was though! We were in the middle of a fight, and… and I let you down. You could have been killed!"

Jorah had never heard so much anguish in Jaime's voice before, and that made his heart sank.

\- "Hush! You did fine. Don't worry."  
\- "No! I'm… I was a Kingsguard, I was said to be one of the best swordsman of our time, I'm supposed to be better than that! Even though I'm no good at anything else, the battlefield at least should be the one place where I'm useful! Where I thought I could be useful. But then…"  
\- "Don't be stupid! You saved my ass countless times on the battlefield. I'm glad I could return the favor for once, actually. I'd look pretty weak and incompetent if I was always the one in need of some saving."

Jaime looked horrified at his words.

\- "No one ever thought you were weak or incompetent!"

\- "Well, I'll believe you, if you believe me when I tell you that all this crap you said about being no good at anything outside the battlefield is nonsense."

The young man replied with a weak smile.

\- "I was a Kingsguard but I killed my king. I was the heir of Casterly Rock but I fled my duty and came live far in the North instead. I couldn't even be a good brother to Cersei and Tyrion. And now I'm failing as a swordsman too… How could you see any worth in me?"

And those words hurt, they hurt even more that the wounds on his arms, because Jaime seemed to really believe he was worthless. And that was the most aberrant and painful thing Jorah had ever heard. How could Jaime not see how precious he was? How his kindness and strength and ravaging smile had affected everyone in the castle in such a good way in the past two years? How he meant everything to Jorah?

\- "You're good to me", he said softly. He searched Jaime's eyes and looked straight at them, trying to convey everything he felt for the man through his gaze. "I've never been more happy than in the past two years, since you've started living with me… with us in Bear Island."

They both started to blush, but neither of them looked away. Jorah felt like he could just drown into the deep, luminous green of Jaime's eyes, and be content forever. There was a tension between them that had not been there before… Or maybe it had always been there but none of them had ever acknowledged it.  
Jorah didn't want to break the moment, but a sudden twinge of pain made him close his eyes and draw a sharp breath. Jaime was immediately applying the damp cloth on his brow again, and he was glad for the bit of coolness it provided.

\- "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I shouldn't keep you awake like this", blurted out the young knight. "Do you want milk of the poppy? The healer said you should sleep if you can."

Jorah would have liked to protest and continue their conversation, but he realized he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyelids open. He accepted to drink the beverage Jaime was giving him, then fell into a restless sleep.

When he woke up, he was freezing.  
He had only slept a few hours it seemed. It was just starting to get dark outside. He didn't feel much more rested than before. The pain wasn't so bad at the moment, but his limbs were cramped and he had an itch to move them. He knew it would only hurt more, though.  
He wasn't sure why he felt so cold. He was still sweating though. His body must have contracted a fever or something…

He heard a soft, regular breath next to him and realized that Jaime was still by his side, sleeping in his chair. Somehow, Jorah knew that the young knight had not left his side during the whole time he'd been asleep. That thought warmed him inside, even though he felt a bit guilty. He should have told Jaime to leave him and go sleep in a bed. The chair looked pretty uncomfortable. But to be honest he was happy Jaime had stayed. Now he had the opportunity to look at the blond man sleeping face. Jaime looked so relaxed like this. Even with his facial muscles resting and his golden hair all over the place, he looked as beautiful as ever.  
Jorah stared at him for long minutes. He wondered if he could have overcome his need to touch and caress the young man's face, if his arms had not been bandaged and immobilized by the pain. He started imagining his lips caressing Jaime's cheeks, and mouth, and neck… his hand in the golden hair, mussing them up even more…  
His body was definitely warmer now. But he needed to cool down. He couldn't let Jaime see his raw desire for him. He would probably frighten the young man away.

 _Though he did blush very prettily earlier. Could he be interested in me, romantically?_

Those thoughts were probably just wild hopes, though. He knew Jaime liked him a lot, but romantically? Jorah was eleven years older than Jaime, and he was living in a ragged, dirty castle made more of wood than stone, and that was called « castle » mostly because the Mormont family lived there - not because it looked like a castle in any way. His home was about as rich as he imagined a simple servant's home would be at Casterly Rock. Maybe even less. And Jaime had been raised to enjoy luxury and beauty in all things. So Jorah didn't think he had much chance to ever be anything more than a friend to the Lannister. He'd been extremely lucky that the young man had come to live here for two years already. He knew Jaime had come mostly because he wanted to escape King's Landing and his family.  
But Jaime could have gone everywhere, and he had went - and stayed - in Bear Island. That was precious in itself, and Jorah didn't want to risk scaring the man away.

Jaime's breath suddenly accelerated, and his body tensed. Jorah could see his muscles contract erratically, even though he was still fast asleep. Then Jaime started to whine.

\- "No… no please…", he heard the young man say in his sleep.

\- "Jaime? Jaime wake up! You're having a nightmare…"

\- "Please don't… NO!"

\- "Jaime!"

Jorah moved his left arm and caught Jaime's hand to shake him and force him awake. The movement sent a bolt of sharp pain through his body but he ignored it.

\- "Jaime wake up! Jaime are you alright?"

He felt Jaime's hand contract around his wounded and bandaged hand - which hurt like hell but he didn't care at the moment - and finally the young man opened his eyes, startled.

\- "Jorah?"

\- "Are you ok? It looked like you were having a bad dream…"

\- "I'm… I'm fine…"

Jaime shook his head as if to chase away the remnants of his nightmare. He still looked a bit lost for a moment, but then his eyes focused on Jorah's face, and on Jorah's hand which he was still clutching hard. As soon as he realized he was probably hurting Jorah, he let go of his hand.

\- "Oh! Sorry! Your hand, I didn't mean… Did I hurt you?"

\- "Not at all", lied Jorah. In truth having any sort of contact against his burned hand was agony, but he still felt a bit disappointed that Jaime had stopped holding his hand.

There was an uncomfortable silence after that. Jorah wanted to ask Jaime about his nightmare, but he knew the young man wouldn't want to talk about it. It wasn't the first time. When Jaime first arrived on Bear Island two years ago, he was having nightmares almost every night. Jorah wished he had known what they were about and how he could help in any way, but Jaime had just kept saying it was nothing to worry about. The nightmares had become more and more rare with time though, and he didn't think Jaime had had nightmares in months, now. Somehow it had happened again today though. Something must have triggered it. Jorah thought it could have been the fire that alighted on his arm… Jaime was always avoiding fires. When he first arrived in the castle, he had refused to have a fire in his room for almost a year, preferring to have a pile of blankets instead to keep him warm at night. After a while it looked like he had come to terms with whatever that was (a phobia of fire?) though, and had been a bit more comfortable around flames, but he was never quite relaxed around them either.

 _Maybe seeing flames eating my arm have revived painful memories. I wonder if he was ever burned himself?_

He wished he could see Jaime's naked body to check for any sign of old injuries, but then the thought of Jaime naked triggered very different thoughts in his mind, and he had to close his eyes and force himself to calm down. Now really wasn't the moment to have fantasies about Jaime.

\- "Your cousin Dacey visited, a bit earlier. The healer, too, he changed your bandages while you were asleep."

\- "Did you stay here the whole time?", asked Jorah even though he guessed the answer.

\- "Well… yes", confirmed Jaime, blushing as he said it.

There was a silence again, then Jaime questioned him:

\- "Are you in pain right now? Do you need anything?"

\- "I'm freezing", admitted Jorah.

\- "Oh! Right. Wait, I'll just start a fire and… ah…"

Even as he said it, Jaime turned his eyes towards the hearthstone, and stopped in mid-sentence. He hesitated, then got up and made two slow steps towards the hearthstone, the stopped again.

\- "Right. Yes. Let's do that…", said Jaime as if to convince himself.

\- "Wait, Jaime. Actually, I don't think I want a fire right now."

\- "No?", asked Jaime in a strange, high-pit voice. "You're sure?"

\- "Definitely. I've seen enough flames for today." The lie was easy to tell if it could make Jaime more comfortable.

\- "Oh. Yes. Of course. Whatever you prefer then", replied Jaime, obviously relieved. "Do you want me to fetch more blankets, then?"

\- "Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to be my bed-warmer?"

The words had escaped his lips before he could stop them. He saw Jaime tense and regretted letting them out immediately.  
So much for trying not to scare Jaime!

\- "Just joking of course. You don't have to do that", he tried to amend himself.

\- "Ah well… actually… I wouldn't mind… you know… if you wanted me to?", blurted out Jaime in a strange voice. His face was as red as his perfect lips.

Jorah was so shocked he was at a loss of what to say. He just stared stupidly at Jaime, unable to form an answer. He must have stayed too long without speaking because Jaime looked clearly distressed now, and started to walk towards the door.

\- "Sorry. That was a stupid idea, of course. I'll find some blankets", said Jaime very quickly.

\- "No, wait!"

Jaime froze in place, still looking towards the door.

\- "You… you're welcome to come. This bed is way too big anyway. It's always cold no matter how many blankets I have."

Jorah tried to convince himself that his proposition was purely platonic, but he knew it wasn't. It couldn't have been when Jaime had proposed, either. Bedwarmers were a common practice about everywhere in Westeros, but only for women and young children. For some unknown reason, it wasn't something grown men usually did. So when two men were found in the same bed, no one ever believed it was just to keep warm. There was always more. Jaime knew that too, everyone did.

Still, the young knight hesitated only a few more seconds before he walked back to Jorah's side. He quickly removed his boots and shirt and before Jorah could fully realize what was happening, Jaime was lying next to him, just a few centimeters from him. They were almost touching.  
Jaime turned to face him, moving very slowly, making sure he wasn't touching any of Jorah's wounds. They stared into each other's eyes. Jorah didn't feel cold at all anymore. Rather like his body was on fire - but on a right, pleasant way this time, not literally.

\- "Alright. Now sleep", commanded Jaime. "You need the rest."

\- "Sure", he answered, even though he couldn't imagining ever being able to fall asleep with Jaime lying half-naked in his bed. His mind was hyperactive right now, providing him with hundreds of images of what he wished he could do. There was no way he could fall asleep. He needed to stay awake so he could remember every second of this moment.

\- "Is the blanket ok?", he suddenly asked, worried. "It's not to rough for you? I could go find a better one…"  
Jaime gazed wide-eyed at him.

\- "What in the Seven Hells are you taking about? The blanket is fine."

\- "Oh. Ok. Forget what I said, it was stupid."

The truth was, ever since Jaime had come live in the castle, Jorah had been obsessed with getting him the finest things he could find, so he would be comfortable. Jaime had been used to luxury in Casterly Rock and in the capital, and Jorah had been afraid that the poor equipments they had here in Bear Island would repel the young knight. Jaime knew nothing of it of course, but Jorah had actually given all his best, softest blankets and furs to Jaime when he had arrived. Keeping only rugged ones for himself. He had even wanted to buy some silk sheets, persuaded that was the only fabric worthy enough to be in contact with Jaime's fair skin, but his aunt Maege had just laughed at him, and he'd had to give up on the idea. Jaime had never complained about the coarse fabric of his blankets and clothes though, but Jorah was secretly scared that was only because he was too polite to say anything. But he couldn't bring himself to ask, in fear Jaime would admit that the rough northern lifestyle didn't suit him.

\- "Just go to sleep", commanded Jaime again, unaware of Jorah's musing.

And even though Jorah tried to resist and to stay awake to enjoy Jaime's presence at his side, he was fast asleep in less than a minute.


	4. Chapter 4

Here is the last chapter! I hope you'll enjoy it. I made this fic for ProfDrLachfinger, and I've become a Mormonnister shipper too now ^^

Also, ProfDrLachfinger made several GORGEOUS illustrations for the different chapters of the fic! I put the links in my profile, go check it out! :)

* * *

 **BURNED**

 **Chapter IV** **(final chapter)**

Jaime shifted uncomfortably in his pristine white armor. He glanced at King Aerys, somehow hoping he would cancel his order at the last moment and admit it had just been a bad joke to scare the Starks. But no, the King was just smiling broadly under his long, dirty beard, and there was madness in his eyes, the same madness he had seen appear in the royal eyes more and more often in the past months. Usually, nothing good happened when the King was like this.

Jaime turned his head back towards the two Starks - Lord Rickard and his first son, Brandon. They had been accused of treason and sentenced to death. When Lord Rickard had demanded a trial by combat, Aerys had replied his opponent, the Targaryen champion, would be fire. Which meant he was going to be burned to death.  
And apparently, Aerys meant for this to happen right here and then, in front of the whole court.

Jaime looked at the faces of all the people who had gathered to see the execution. Surely, surely, someone would stand up and stop this?

As if the pyre wasn't bad enough, Brandon Stark had been brought to watch his father burn, with a noose around his neck and a sword just out of his reach. If he tried to reach the sword, he would just strangled himself. They attached Lord Stark to the pyre. He was in his full armor, which meant he would cook as much as burn if they went through with the execution…

Jaime looked again at the spectators, anxious. Some of them must have the power to stop this. The King was mad, could no one see that? Why wasn't Prince Rhaegar here, he would have stopped this! But no one moved. All just stayed there and looked as a man approached the pyre with a lit torch. Jaime looked at the other Kingsguards then. There were three of them at the moment, not counting himself. They were all armed. They could stop this. But Jaime knew they wouldn't disobey their king. They had pledged to serve and protect him, after all. He had, too. Except no one had told him that the King was mad, that this would happen!  
He was tempted to act himself. The other Kingsguard wouldn't let him interfere though. Could he defeat the three men alone? People said that he was second best in swordsman fight after Arthur Dayne, and Ser Dayne wasn't here at the moment. Maybe he could take them down.  
But then… what? Would that change anything? There was still the king, and the crowd, and all the guards…

He could do nothing.

The pyromancer lit the pyre. First there was only small flames, then suddenly they grew bigger and started to make a lot of smoke. Brandon Stark shouted, pleading mercy for his father. Rickard stayed silent for an impressive amount of time, but eventually he started to grunt, then scream as he was boiling in his armor, as the flames licked his skin and devoured it.

And still Jaime didn't move. He just watched, like everyone else, dying a little bit inside.

The flames eventually burned away the ropes that were restraining Lord Stark, and he managed to raise an arm. He was pointing at Jaime. His face suddenly became Jorah's face, and it was twisted in agony. His arm was on fire, and he was looking straight at Jaime with accusatory eyes. His lis moved and Jaime could read that he was saying « You did this to me ». Then Jorah was screaming and screaming, and Jaime was screaming with him. Tears filled his eyes and he wanted to run to Jorah and save him from the flames, but he couldn't move, it was like he was stuck in place and unable to raise a finger to help Jorah, forced to just watch him die in the worse torments possible…

\- "JAIME!", shouted Jorah.

 _No, no, please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…_

\- "JAIME, WAKE UP BY ALL THE GODS!"

A hand slapped him in the face, hard, and suddenly the pyre disappeared and he was lying in a bed in a room he didn't recognized. He was panting and sobbing uncontrollably.

\- "Jaime? Jaime please talk to me. You're safe."

\- "… J-j-Jorah?"

\- "Yes, it's me, I'm here. Whatever you saw, it was just a bad dream."

A soothing hand was caressing his cheek and chasing his damped hair away from his temples. Jaime turned his head and saw Jorah lying beside him, a clearly worried expression on his face. But his face looked fine. It wasn't burned.

\- "I-I saw you burning", managed to get out Jaime, not understanding how Jorah could still looked unharmed.

He was shaking badly.

\- "The pyre… it was my fault… and I didn't save you! You were burning and-and I just looked!"

\- "Jaime. Calm down. It was just a nightmare. I'm safe. There is no pyre."

\- "N-no pyre?", asked Jaime, desperate. Why were his thoughts so confused?

But then slowly his thoughts started to sort themselves. The pyre happened two years ago. It was Rickard Stark who had burned during the Nightmare, not Jorah. It had been horrible, yes - but Jorah was safe. Jorah was fine. That was the most important.  
Jaime took a sharp breath and buried his face into Jorah's strong and welcoming chest.

\- "Sorry. Sorry. Just a bad dream. I'm sorry I woke you up. Just give me a minute and - and I'll be fine again."

With Jorah's warmth and scent enfolding him, he felt so safe. More safe than he had been in… he didn't know how long really. And Jorah was hugging him back, which was wonderful and heavenly. Slowly, his breath settled down and his shaking stopped. Jorah was gently patting his back and murmuring reassuring words in his hear. It was so pleasant he didn't want to move ever again. He took a deep breath to capture more of Jorah's delicious scent - but then he smelled it. Something sweet and metallic and wrong.  
 _Blood_ , he realized.

He reluctantly disengaged from Jorah's embrace and looked at the young Mormont's bandaged arm. It was red and soaking from what was obviously an open, bleeding wound.

\- "Jorah, your arm!", cried out the Lannister in panic. "How long has it been bleeding like that? We have to treat it!"

\- "Oh well, I hardly noticed actually. It hardly hurts."

Jaime frowned. He was sure Jorah was lying. There was no way this wasn't hurting like seven hells.

\- "Wait… did I provoked that?"

\- "What? No! No it… it started bleeding on its own. I guess."

\- "Jorah, you're a terrible liar."

He looked down at his own hands and saw blood on his palms and under his nails.

\- "Did I… clutch your arm during my sleep? Your wounded arm?"

\- "Don't worry about it…"

\- "So hard that I drew blood? That's what happened right? By the Seven Gods, I managed to hurt you even in my sleep…"

He felt like he was going to fall back into his panic mode right in this instant. Why did he just keep hurting Jorah? Again, and again?

But his line of thought was abruptly interrupted when Jorah's full lips captured his own into a breath-stealing kiss. Jaime was so surprised his mind became blank. And then he was kissing Jorah back and wrapping his arms around the older man's body, afraid he would go away. Jorah's tongue met his own and started exploring his mouth with passion. It was wet and warm and perfect.  
Jorah pulled back way to soon, leaving Jaime breathless and blushing hard.

\- "There. Feel better?", asked Jorah.

Jaime couldn't help but laugh.

 _Much, much better_ , he thought. But his brain was too blown to actually manage sophisticated thing like articulated words, so he moved to kiss Jorah again instead. To make sure this was real - whatever this was between them. Jorah replied to the kiss without hesitation, opening his lips to Jaime's tongue, letting him taste his mouth. Nothing had ever tasted better. Even the most delectable dishes that was served as a daily basis at Casterly Rock paled in comparison. Then Jorah bit his lips just so, and he felt a flush of arousal roll through his body.

Disengaging from the embrace was one of the most difficult thing he'd ever done, especially with Jorah protesting and trying to keep him in his arms, but they needed to stop right now. Or else they'd never be able to stop.

\- "Jorah, wait, your arm… We need to treat your arm."

\- "It can wait. I need you."

\- "It can't wait! Your wound is bleeding and it could get infected! Please. We… we can go back to… well… to _this_ after I've treated your arm. Ok?"

Jorah searched his eyes and gazed at him with a look that made Jaime's erection painful. He knew he was blushing like a maid but he couldn't help it. Jorah finally let him go, and he immediately got up to fetch some water, the ointment left by the healer, and clean bandages. Then he sat by the bed, gently took Jorah's arm and slowly began to remove the soaking wet bandages.  
Below, the wound was still as ugly as the previous day. Jaime's heart clenched.  
Before he could stop himself, he asked:

\- "You're sure your healer is competent, right?"

\- "Harrold? Yes. He's the best."

\- "He's not a maester though. He doesn't have a chain."

\- "He was trained by one. He just never cared enough to go all the way south to the Citadel to get some fancy decorations, but don't worry, we have more than enough knowledge of medicine here in the North."

Jaime bit his lower lip. He didn't want to look untrusting, but of course he'd noticed that the medical equipment here was no comparison to what he'd known in Casterly Rock. He had not minded before, he'd been sure the Northerners were just as competent as his father's army of healers. But now Jorah was hurt, and that changed everything.

\- "You know, I could… I could ask my father to send his best healer, with the best medicine…"

And it hurt to just propose that. Jaime never wanted to have anything to do with his father, ever again. He had left Casterly Rock with relief, and hoped to never go there again. To never see again the judging an dismissive look in Tywin's eyes. For Jorah's sake, though, he would do it - and far worse things if needed.

\- "No."

Jorah's voice was categorical.

\- "But…"

\- "I promised you already two years ago, Jaime. You'll never have to deal with your father ever again. Not unless you really want to – and I know you don't."

\- "I… I don't want to see him, nor to ask anything to him but, for your sake…"

\- "Even less for my sake! I'm just an old gruff man, I don't deserve…"

\- "But you _do_ deserve! Can't you see you mean _everything_ to me?!", shouted Jaime.

They both froze. He hadn't meant to say it. It was true, oh, so much true… but he had not meant to blurt it out like that. Embarrassed, he avoided Jorah's gaze and focused on cleaning his wound instead. At least, it had stopped bleeding. That was a good thing.

\- "You… you really meant that, didn't you?", asked the other man in a soft, almost broken voice.

 _Oh, my dear Jorah, do you really need to ask?_

He had thought he would have to keep his feelings about the other man hidden forever, but now he had outed himself already anyway. And… they had kissed. Oh gods, Jorah had kissed him!

\- "Already after that Tourney at Lannisport when I was five, I couldn't stop thinking about you", he confessed. "I wasn't sure why. I was too young to understand, I guess. But I kept talking about you, all the time, until my sister really got angry at me. It looked like she was jealous or something", he explained with a sad laugh. "Even after that though, I still thought about you all the time. I just didn't tell anyone anymore."

\- "I… I had no idea…"

\- "And then years later, when my life had been shattered and all my hopes and dreams crushed… after I saw a man burned alive without raising a finger, and witnessed a king willing to burn his whole city… after I betrayed my sacred vow and killed my own king… you came to me in the Throne Room, and… and you looked at me like… like I was _precious_."

\- "Oh Jaime. You are that to me. You were, since the moment I laid eyes on you."

\- "No one had ever looked at me like that."

It was painful to admit it, but it was true. But now he didn't care anymore that no one else ever saw it like that - he had Jorah's affection, and that was more than enough. Better than anything.

\- "So when you proposed that I come live with you on Bear Island, I was… I was so happy."

Jaime was crying now. He couldn't stop it.

\- "I just wanted to leave everything bad behind, and to be with you."

\- "You coming here was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. I… I never thought you would actually accept, when I proposed… you were the first son of the richest family in the whole Seven Kingdoms, and I was just the Lord of a little island most people don't even know where to place on a map. But… you said yes. You came and… I fell in love with you a little more everyday."

Jaime raised his head at that. He wiped his tears hastily with the back of his hand. His eyes met Jorah's, and there was so much love and passion in the other man's look, it made his heart burn like wildfire. He also tried to convey all his feelings for the other man through his eyes. Time just stopped for a moment. And then he knew. He knew what is was between them, and he knew Jorah felt it too. Their mutual love was so overwhelming, he wondered how they had managed not to act on it during two entire years.

\- "I want you", murmured Jorah.

-"And I want you." It was a foregone conclusion really. "But first, you'll have to wait until I finish bandaging you arm again. And you're forbidden to move too much until it's healed, so… you'll have to let me take care of you."

\- "I can't wait."

Jaime's erection had woken up again, and was pressing hard against his pants. Still, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He really wanted Jorah to heal quickly.

\- "Do you want to know what I'll do to you once I've got both my arms back?", asked Jorah with a sensual voice.

Jaime didn't think he could blush any more that day, but he did.

\- "Tell me all about it."

* * *

When the healer came back to his lord's room to check on his wounds, he stopped at some noises he heard through the door.

\- "Oh well. I guess mylord's alright."

 **THE END**


End file.
